Chapter 7 - The Mastermind Unmasked
By Friday afternoon, the news of the Whitmore financial scandal had shattered the serene, wealthy enclave of Lake Forest.
Front-page headlines in the local business journals read: LAKE FOREST ESTATE FROZEN AMID MILLION-DOLLAR TRUST FRAUD INVESTIGATION.
I sat in the quiet, sunlit corner office of my father’s firm in downtown Chicago, looking out over the blue waters of Lake Michigan. On the glass desk in front of me sat three thick white binders containing the completed preliminary forensic audit report.
My attorney, Sarah Jenkins, sat across from me, sipping her espresso while reviewing the final settlement agreement.
“Evelyn, this is a masterclass,” Sarah said, shaking her head in genuine admiration. “Because you triggered the audit through the whistleblower provisions of the prenuptial agreement, Northern Trust has agreed to pay your firm a twenty-two percent fee on all recovered assets.”
“How much does that come out to?” I asked calmly.
“Roughly one point eight million dollars,” Sarah replied, sliding a sheet of paper toward me. “Plus, because Daniel pledged the mansion illegally, the court has ordered the house to be put up for immediate auction. Once the primary creditors are satisfied, the remaining proceeds will be placed into a court-monitored annuity for Charles Whitmore’s surviving trust beneficiaries—which no longer includes Patricia.”
The door to the office opened, and my father stepped inside, holding two fresh files.
“How is Daniel faring?” I asked.
“Not well,” my father said, sitting down in the leather chair beside Sarah. “His mezzanine lenders filed a civil suit against him personally this morning for fraud and misrepresentation. He’s looking at personal bankruptcy before the end of the month.”
“And Patricia?”
My father sighed, a heavy, tired sound. “She was formally indicted by the State’s Attorney two hours ago. Grand larceny, forgery in the first degree, and tax evasion. Her bail has been set at five hundred thousand dollars.”
He looked at me, his eyes filled with quiet concern. “She tried to contact you from the holding facility, Evelyn. She asked if you would come see her.”
I stared out the window at the distant horizon, watching the sailboats gliding across the lake.
“Why would she want to see me?” I asked softly.
“She wants answers,” my father replied. “She still doesn't understand how a girl who stood in her kitchen two weeks ago managed to take apart thirty years of her empire in fourteen days.”
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I sat quietly for a moment, tracing the edge of the smooth glass desk with my thumb.
“Tell her I'll come,” I said calmly. “She deserves to know the truth.”
